Hell—and Step On It
© 2008 by Kyt Dotson
A cabbie dropped her fare off in the late of a balmy East Phoenix evening. She grabbed her radio mike to call in the drop-off with Gary at Dispatch.
“Vex here. Got me a pick-up?”
The radio hissed in reply. It wasn’t Gary; it was the owner, Vex’s father—trying once again to make up for walking out on the family when she was six.
“Darling, hey, we haven’t had much time together this month, so I got two tickets for the Ice Capades this Friday.”
“I'm busy Friday, sorry.”
“In that case, how about the baseball game Saturday? Jason’ll cover your shift―”
“Busy all weekend.”
“Oh—then let’s do lunch on Sunday.”
“No.”
If he said anything else, she didn't hear because she cut the power to the radio. Too little, too late. She only started driving for him because waiting tables didn’t come with a free car; she didn’t think she was signing up to play Dutiful Daughter to his Good Father routine. The whole situation was driving her nuts, so a few weeks ago she had decided to take a break from the city, the job, and her father. But a vacation cost money, and money meant work. If she hustled, she might save up enough in about two months, and hustling meant no time to humor her father.
That’s how she ended up driving through the dead of the night, prowling for a fare with her radio off.